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Copyright N°. 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/atshrineofsongOObash 



At the Shrine 
of Song 

by 
HERBERT BASHFORD 



With Introduction 

by 

GEORGE WHARTON JAMES 




San Francisco 

tEije OTfntafter & 3&ap Company 
i 909 



TS 3 r,3 
■A77A7 



Copyright, 1909 

BY 
THE WHITAKER & RAY CO. 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoDies Received 

JUN 1 180& 



Copyrnrnt 

7, 



LASS A ' AXc No. 



^ 

* 

? 



TO MOTHER 



INTRODUCTION 

Herbert Bashford, early in life, learned the 
lesson unconsciously, perhaps, that true poetry is 
the result of the wedding of a human soul with 
the elusive, sweet, deep-toned mysteries of 
Nature. The versifier who merely describes 
nature is never a poet — it is only when his own 
inner self weds with nature that out of that in- 
timate union pure poetry is born. It was in the 
picturesque northwest that he was drawn nearer 
and nearer to his divine mistress. He penetrated 
deep into the vast forests of that region, bathed 
in their mystery, vastness and solitude and listened 
to the winds as they sang long and triumphant 
in the storm or merely awoke the yEolian 
music of the leaves of the topmost branches. 
He dwelt as a brother with the Quinaults, one of 
the Indian tribes of the north Pacific Coast, and 
with the clear eyes of the poet that loves and 
sees he penetrated into their heart of hearts. He 
saw as they saw, felt as they felt, and thus had 
opened to him the treasures of poetic wisdom. 
With them he went to sea and roamed the 
forest, following trails known only to the elk, 
and from the rocky cliffs of the coast looked 
down upon "The Wolves of the Sea." 

In these silent woods he learned to love the 
brooding spirit of solitude that one finds in the 
vast aisles of living, sentient, yet silent and 
sympathetic forest trees. Again he listened to 
the solemn song of the sea, and in the darkness 
of the night, when his mind and soul were at- 
tuned to the slightest message, whether of silence 
or thundering power, he and his sweet mistress 
Nature brought forth their children of Song. 



INTRODUCTION 



What wonder that the nestor of American 
poetic critics, Edmund Clarence Stedman, re- 
ferred to him as a poet who "was representing 
the atmosphere, the spirit and the inspiring 
natural features of the glorious North Pacific 
Slope," and who found in his work something 
"distinctive and refreshing." 

I came in close personal touch with this soulful 
singer while riding up the majestic slopes of the 
great Mt. San Jacinto, overlooking the Colorado 
Desert. As I neared the summit I heard from 
the trail below a member of our party shouting 
some stanzas from "The Song of the Forest 
Ranger" in the exuberance of joy. Again, while 
visiting a camp of forest rangers overlooking the 
grand basin of the Sierra Madre, there pinned 
upon the wall of the cabin was the poem and my 
rugged friend of the mountain forest read to me 
with tears in his eyes and fervor in his voice : 
"Come and learn the joy of living! 

Come and you will understand 
How the sun his gold is giving 
With a great, impartial hand!" 

Herbert Bashford's poetry has placed him in 
the front rank of the younger of America's poets 
of power. He is yet young. His face is set 
toward the rising sun. He walks to the East 
and he climbs unweariedly to the heights. Thus 
he catches the first and clearest beams of each 
new morn and standing high hears the faintest 
whisper of the Divine with full measure of 
gratitude and thankfulness for what he has 
already done. 

So I look for more and greater work from his 
pen in the years to come. 

George Wharton James. 



INDEX 

PAGE 

Songs of Wood and Wave 

The Wolves of the Sea 1 

The Song of the Forest Ranger 2 

The Voice of Conquest 4 

Song of the Out-of-Doors 5 

The Derelict 6 

The Arid Lands 8 

On the Cliff 9 

An Old Garden 10 

Midwinter in the Northwest 11 

- The Song of the Bell Buoy 12 

After the Snowstorm 13 

The Fisherman's Story 14 

Autumn Days 19 

A Western Sunset 21 

The Freedom of the Height 22 

The King of the Pole 24 

Dead Man's Island : Puget Sound 25 

Mid-Summer 26 

Storm in the Forest 27 

Why Santa Claus Forgot 28 

The Stricken City 30 

The Russet-Backed Thrush 31 

The Seagull 32 

Summer Hours 33 

Evening on the Ranch 35 

In May 36 

The Meadow-Lark 37 

November 37 

The Deserted Cabin 38 

The Blue Heron 38 

The Sea of the North 39 

Copalis 41 

[xi] 



INDEX 

PAGE 

Where Solitude Abides 43 

The Cougar 44 

December 45 

The Wreck of the Ferndale 46 

Sunrise 49 

In January 49 

Falling Leaves SO 

The Wonder- Worker 51 

The Woods of the West 52 

Ecstasy 53 

The Dawn of Christmas Day 53 

Long Ago 54 

Love and 1 56 

Morning 57 

Deserted 58 

October 59 

The Suicide 60 

Sailing 61 

The Winding Trail 62 

A Sea Lyric 64 

Alice 65 

Sonnets and Quatrains 

One Autumn Night 69 

By the Pacific 70 

A Picture 71 

Night in Camp 72 

Morning in Camp 73 

Alone Upon the Mountain Side 74 

Dawn on Puget Sound 75 

Noon on Puget Sound 76 

Evening on Puget Sound 77 

The Pioneer 78 

To the Sea 79 

If She Should Die 80 

Since She Is Gone 81 

[xii] 



INDEX 

PAGE 

The Silent Woods 82 

The Fall of the Fir 83 

The Fishermen : Puget Sound 84 

June 85 

On the Marsh 86 

Mt. Rainier 87 

To a Mountain Brook 88 

The Modern Pagan 89 

Cuba, 1897 90 

To the Moon 91 

Longing 92 

Eventide 93 

The Oregon Ruffed Grouse 94 

Haunted 95 

Night 96 

The Passing of Autumn 97 

To the Ideal 98 

The Mountain 99 

Custer 99 

Moonrise 99 

A Sea Picture 100 

Children 100 

Creeds 100 

Magic 100 

The Pessimist 101 

The West Shore 101 

The Pacific 101 

Butterflies 101 

Along Shore 102 

A Western Forest 102 

At a Child's Grave 102 

The Birth of the Red Rose 103 

In the Garden 103 

A Fancy 103 

Ina Coolbrith 104 

[ xiii ] 



INDEX 

PAGE 

Fog 104 

Sunset 104 

The Cyclone 105 

In Dialect 

On Newbrasky's Fertile Shore 109 

Derndest Gal I Ever Knowed 113 

Back to Petelumy 115 

A Romance of Oregon 118 

Boland's Boy 121 

Jim Robbin's Wooden Leg 124 

Sence My Mary Went Away 127 



[xiv] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE WOLVES OF THE SEA 

From dusk until dawn they are hurrying on, 
Unfettered and feerless they flee; 

From morn until eve they plunder and thieve — 
The hungry, white wolves of the Sea ! 

With never a rest, they race to the west, 

To the Orient's rim do they run ; 
By the berg and the floe of the northland they 
go 

And away to the isles of the sun. 

They wail at the moon from the desolate dune 
Till the air has grown dank with their breath ; 

They snarl at the stars from the treacherous bars 
Of the coasts that are haunted by Death. 

They grapple and bite in a keen, mad delight 
As they feed on the bosom of Grief ; 

And one steals away to a cave with his prey, 
And one to the rocks of the reef. 

With the froth on their lips they follow the 
ships, 
Each striving to lead in the chase ; 
Since loosed by the hand of the King of their 
band 
They have known but the rush of the race. 

They are shaggy and old, yet as mighty and bold 
As when God's freshest gale set them free; 

Not a sail is unfurled in a port of the world 
But is prey for the wolves of the Sea! 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE SONG OF THE FOREST RANGER 

Oh, to feel the fresh breeze blowing 
From lone ridges yet untrod! 

Oh, to see the far peak growing 
Whiter as it climbs to God! 

Where the silver streamlet rushes 
I would follow — follow on 

Till I heard the happy thrushes 
Piping lyrics to the dawn. 

I would hear the wild rejoicing 
Of the wind-blown cedar tree, 

Hear the sturdy hemlock voicing 
Ancient epics of the sea. 

Forest aisles would I be winding, 
Out beyond the the gates of Care ; 

And, in dim cathedrals, finding 
Silence at the shrine of Prayer. 

When the mystic night comes stealing 
Through my vast, green room afar, 

Never king had richer ceiling — 
Bended bough and yellow star! 

Ah, list to the sacred preaching 

Of the forest's faithful fir, 
With his strong arms upward reaching — 

Mighty, trustful worshipper! 



[2] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



Come and learn the joy of living! 

Come and you will understand 
How the sun his gold is giving 

With a great, impartial hand ! 

How the patient pine is climbing, 
Year by year to gain the sky ; 

How the rill makes sweetest rhyming, 
Where the deepest shadows lie. 

I am nearer the great Giver, 
Where His handiwork is crude; 

Friend am I of peak and river, 
Comrade of old Solitude. 

Not for me the city's riot! 

Not for me the towers of Trade ! 
I would seek the house of Quiet, 

That the Master Workman made ! 



[3] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE VOICE OF CONQUEST 

I hew my pathway with the Sword! 

Slay Peace and say I throttled Crime! 
Ring round with flame the Savage Horde ! 

Weave crimson in the robe of Time ! 

With saber stroke and thrust of lance 
I shake the regions of Content, 

And teach the hosts of Ignorance 
The sweetness of Enlightenment! 

I search for gold and gleaming gem, 
Seize fairest islands of the sea, 

Find simple folk and fling to them 
From cannon mouth — Humanity! 

I seek the realm where dullards dwell, 
I make each brutish weakling feel 

The good there is in shriek of shell, 
The blessings wrought by Fire and Steel. 

What matter if Death's pride be War, 
Or weakness be the slave of Might; 

Is Progress not a conqueror, 

And Power another name for Right ! 

What matter if I crush the free, 
Or if ten million men be slain; 

Am I not lord of Destiny, 

The Anglo-Saxon god of Gain? 



[4] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



SONG OF THE OUT-OF-DOORS 

Come with me, O you world-weary, to the haunts 
of thrush and veery, 
To the cedar's dim cathedral and the palace 
of the pine ; 
Let the soul within you capture something of the 
wildwood rapture, 
Something of the epic passion of that harmony 
divine ! 
Down the pathway let us follow through the 
hemlocks to the hollow, 
To the woven, vine-wound thickets in the 
twilight vague and old, 
While the streamlet winding after is a trail of 
silver laughter, 
And the boughs above hint softly of the melo- 
dies they hold. 
Through the forest, never caring what the way 
our feet are faring, 
We shall hear the wild birds' revel in the 
labyrinth of Tune, 
And on mossy carpets tarry in His temples cool 
and airy, 
Hung with silence and the splendid, amber 
tapestry of noon. 
Leave the hard heart of the city, with its poverty 
of pity, 
Leave the folly and the fashion wearing out the 
faith of men, 
Breathe the breath of life blown over upland 
meadows white with clover, 
And with childhood's clearer vision see the 
face of God again! 



5] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE DERELICT 

I am rolled and swung, I am rocked and flung, 
I am hammered and heaved and hurled, 

I am tossed and wheeled, I am blown and reeled 
And battered about the world. 

On the pushing tide I ride and ride 

Or loiter and loaf at ease, 
With never a care, though foul or fair, 

I follow the foaming seas. 

Men come not nigh when they pass me by 

For they fear me, every one, 
As I cleave the gray of the dawning day 

Or drowse in the summer sun. 

Past unknown isles, for miles and miles 

I wander away to where 
The iceberg lifts and the salt spray drifts 

In the freezing arctic air. 

I steal by the bars when the flame-winged stars 

Have swarmed in the upper blue 
And the glow and shine of the drenching brine 

Like white fire burns me through. 

I haunt as a ghost the rock-girt coast 

Where the bell-buoy loudly rings 
And the breakers leap to the mighty sweep 

Of the night-wind's sable wings. 



6] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



I shake and moan, I creak and groan, 
In the wrathful tempest when 

The old sea raves and digs deep graves 
For the jolly sailor men. 

What matters time or what the clime 

To a vagrant of the sea? 
To live or die, oh naught care I, 

There is no port for me! 



m 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE ARID LANDS 

These lands are clothed in burning weather, 
These parched lands pant for God's cool rain; 

I look away where strike together 
The burnished sky and barren plain. 

I look away; no green thing gladdens 
My weary eye — no flower, no tree, 

Naught save the earth, the sage-brush saddens, 
The scorched, gray earth that sickens me. 

Oh, for the pines, where the sweet wind revels ! 

The ringing laugh of the crystal creek ! 
Alas, gaunt Hunger haunts these levels, 

And Thirst goes wandering wan and weak. 

No shadow falls where swiftly passes 

The gray coyote's noiseless feet, 
No song of bird, no hint of grasses — 

The home of Silence and of Heat! 



[8] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



ON THE CLIFF 

Pushes the bold, strong tide high over the sheer, 
rough ledges, 
Stand the brave seas on the rocks all red with 
the sun's parting glow, 
Cold, fine spray in the air fast dimming the crag's 
sharp edges, 
Lifting like smoke from the boom of the great 
wave-cannon below. 

Rises the calm, fair moon, white ruler of turbulent 
ocean, 
Bends her fair form in response to that far- 
sounding thunder of praise, 
Steps, silver-sandaled, where seas writhe in 
wildest commotion, 
Smiles at the foam-shrouded waters that follow 
her down through the days. 

Safe are we here on the cliff; but ah! that mad 
shatter and crashing 
Brings the chill tremor of fear, the short, hard, 
shuddering breath, 
Look, oh, God, look beneath us ! How fearful 
the tumult, the lashing — 
Lashing of crazed, hungry billows that clamor 
for terror and death. 



[9] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



AN OLD GARDEN 

The old, gray fence is wrapped in vines 
While here and there a creeper trails 

A burning lash that twists and twines 
Around the ancient, rotting rails. 

A slender streamlet shivers through 
The tall, strong grass and glides along 

Far seaward with such silence you 
Hear but the echo of a song. 

A few broad sunflowers flaming bright 
Lift from the brambles' woven darks; 

Amid sweet clover, pink and white, 
A poppy flings its glowing sparks. 

Beyond lean lonely alder trees, 

Each slim trunk mottled leopard-wise; 

In deep flower bells crawl bandit bees 
With belts of gold about their thighs. 



[10] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



MIDWINTER IN THE NORTHWEST 

Through all the dreary days the cold rains pour, 
And winter's chilling gusts make sullen moan; 

Their outstretched arms the tall pines raise and 
lower 
As if to silence that deep monotone. 

No song of bird now thrills the solemn wood, 
And save the wailing wind there is no sound; 

Where once the lilies in white beauty stood 
The rotting leaves have robed the sodden 
ground. 

The slender cedars standing on the height 
Seem bony ringers pointing to the sky; 

The maple trees, ah, what a woeful sight — 
Mere skeletons that ever strive to die! 

I look in vain for glowing sun at morn, 

At evening watch the dark blot out the day 
And greet, mayhap, the old moon, pale and 
worn, — 
A groping ghost half seen through folds of 
gray. 



[II] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE SONG OF THE BELL BUOY 

Oh, I rise and I fall, I call and I call, 

Though the years may grow long and the days 
may go by; 

Near a reef of gray stone, forsaken, alone, 
I am left to the sea, to the sun and the sky. 

How I shout and I reel with the frenzy I feel 
When my wave-woven garments are fashioned 
of fire — 
When the night wind blows keen and no star may 
be seen 
And the heart of the sea is as wild as Desire ! 

As I sway and I swing how my brazen lips fling 
Their one word of warning to those sailing 
home, 

But there comes no reply save a spar drifting by, 
A sob from the surf and a face in the foam ! 

Death's footfall is here and a chill as of fear 
When the shrouds of the mist all the headlands 
enfold ; 
Ah, the dead men below — they and I only know 
Of a ship, haven-bound, that no tongue has yet 
told! 

Whether foul or fair sky, but one message I cry 
From the half-hidden ledges I haunt as a 
ghost ; 
To the end will I bide on the pulse of the tide 
Unwearied, undaunted — the voice of the 
Coast ! 

[12] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



AFTER THE SNOWSTORM 

Each tall pine stands in white array, 

A keen north wind goes whistling by, 
The clouds take wing and sail away 

Like huge gray birds across the sky, 
While through the meadow, bleak and cold, 

A stream's black windings I can trace, 
And o'er yon mountain, jagged, bold, 

The full moon shows a frosty face. 



[13] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE FISHERMAN'S STORY 

i 

I knew he was morose that day 
Because he did not speak to me, 

But now I know he was away 
Upon the hills of Italy. 

He showed me once long months before 
The picture of a dark-eyed girl 

Within a locket that he wore — 
A little keepsake wrought of pearl. 

His life had known no counter gale, 
He had the aid of wind and tide, 

And dreamed that soon a snowy sail 
Should bear him to his future bride. 

'Twas but a letter — nothing much — 
A scrap of paper sent to him, 

Yet something he did clutch and clutch 
The while his dusky eyes grew dim. 

And oh, how eagerly he scanned 
Each syllable that formed her name! 

He crushed the letter in his hand 
And fed it to the driftwood flame. 

As in a dream he sat and stared 

At night's black pall around us flung 

I would have spoken if I'd dared, 
But Silence had a gentler tongue. 



[14] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



He did not curse as men will do, 
Of grief he gave no outward sign; 

That bitter draught of myrrh and rue 
He drank as though it had been wine. 

With joyless heart he crooned a song 

Of love and hope, as day by day 
We hauled our heavy seine along 

The pebbled beaches of the bay. 

At last — ah Christ, I'll not forget ! 

I never saw the like before! 
An empty boat — we, chilled and wet, 

And ten leagues from our cabin door! 

Ten weary leagues — a stormy row! 

But fishermen know naught of fear; 
Had we ere this not faced the snow 

When winter nights were dark and drear? 

Had we not braved the Storm-king's glee 
When winds were shrill and waves were high, 

Been battered by a raging sea 
And swung below a ragged sky? 

"Oho! Cheer up! Cheer up!" I cried, 
"We've dared the seas before, my mate, 

What matter if ill luck betide? — 

Why, we were born to laugh at fate !" 

He grasped his oar with one long sigh, 

Nor spoke he any word to me; 
And so together, he and I, 

Put out upon the angry sea. 

[15] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



And side by side, with steady stroke, 
We fought against the veering flaw; 

In flakes of froth the billows broke — 
The wildest wolves I ever saw! 

Ah, how the cutting north wind blew, 
And in our faces dashed the spray! 

The sullen twilight round us grew, 
The green shore faded into gray. 

"Cheer up ! Cheer up ! A merry row 
We'll have ere dawn of day I" laughed I ; 

"And what care we how winds may blow?" 
The Sea's voice only made reply. 

A silent man he left the shore, 

Nor yet a single word had said; 

A silent man he dipped his oar 

As though it were a thing of lead. 

The night came down and still we toiled, 
The tumult fiercer grew, and now 

The swirling tide-rip foamed and boiled, 
And ghostly seas swept o'er the prow. 

The air was filled with flying spume, 
Cloud-galleons sailed down the sky, 

Strange forms groped toward us in the gloom, 
Pale phantoms glided swiftly by. 

Afar, at times, a lonely loon 

Sent quavering laughter through the night, 
While from a filmy sheath the moon 

Drew forth a saber, keen and bright. 

[16] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



Oh, it was weird! — the seabird's screech, 
The distant buoy's warning bell, 

The white palms lifting high to reach 
A loosened star that downward fell! 

Within my breast each moment grew 
A fear of more than wind-blown sea; 

And lo! that mute man, laughing, threw 
Aside his oar and leered at me. 

That moonlit face! It haunts me still! 

The eyes that spoke the maddened brain! 
That moonlit face! It sent a thrill 

Of terror through my every vein! 

"Aha! You thought me dead, you cur!"— 
His breath blew hot against my cheek; 

"Aha! You coward, you lied to her!" — 
I felt my limbs grow strangely weak. 

"Lorenzo! Look! The boat! The boat !"- 
But how can mad men understand? 

My God! He leaped to clutch my throat, 
A wicked dagger in his hand! 

That lifted knife! Ah, yet I feel 
A horror of the deadly thing ! — 

The long keen blade of polished steel 
Against the white stars quivering. 

I upward sprang — I grasped somehow 
The hand that held the hilt of bone ; 

With panther strength he struggled now, 
A demon I must fight — alone! 

[17] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



He strove to slay and I to save 

His life and mine if such might be, 

And in the trough and on the wave 
Like beasts we grappled savagely. 

To plead were vain; I could not hear 
My voice above the tempest's breath, 

I only knew my feet were near 
The awful, icy edge of Death. 

We fought until the dark became 

A glare of crimson to my eyes, 
Until the stars were snakes of flame 

That writhed along the lurid skies. 

We fought I know not how — to me 
All things of that mad night appear 

As vague as when in dreams you see 

The ghouls that haunt the coast of Fear. 

We fought — we fought and then — and then- 
A leap — a cry — and he was gone! 

And I alone pulled shoreward when 

The East had grown the flower of dawn. 



I knew he was morose that day 
Because he did not speak to me, 

But now I know he was away 
Upon the hills of Italy. 



[18] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



AUTUMN DAYS 

On autumn days in woodland ways 

I lie beneath the trees 
And watch the clouds in snowy shrouds 

Drift through the upper seas. 
The leaves of brown come floating down, 

The boughs are blown apart ; 
Above my head are blots of red 

From Summer's broken heart. 

Around about the streamlets shout, 

A chipmunk whisks his tail 
And up the pines makes striped lines 

Or darts along a rail, 
While soft and clear I sometimes hear 

A wild bee's dreamy hum, 
The liquid notes from trembling throats 

And flicker's throbbing drum. 

The maple old is crowned with gold ; 

A torch burns just behind; 
Like finger tips upon my lips 

The touch of balmy wind 
That wanders free o'er gem-set sea 

And sweetest perfume brings; 
I catch below a flash of snow — 

A seagull's gleaming wings. 



[19] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



From out the deep the salmon leap 

All clad in silver mail, 
And far away across the bay 

I see a coming sail. 
And, oh ! how bright that wing of white 

Which wafts my love to me; 
Ah, dearest one, through miles of sun 

I throw a kiss to thee ! 



[20] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



A WESTERN SUNSET 

We stood upon the clovered hill 

And watched the splendid sun go down 

Behind the old, deserted mill 
And scattered cabins, small and brown. 

Some trees with branches interlaced 
Were clustered near a shadowed pond; 

Each slender twig was clearly traced 
Against the gorgeous glow beyond. 

A purple streamer in the west 

Was stretched above a bank of snow, 

While saffron clouds had sunk to rest 
In spreading orange fields below. 

Two fleecy shapes did twist and twine 

Until they formed a giant cup, 
Which plunged into a sea of wine 

And, bubbling o'er, was lifted up. 

She pointed to a scarlet bar — 

My sweet companion, young and fair, 

And wondered if the evening star 
Were frightened as it trembled there. 

We lingered long; a cooling breeze 
Came laden with the breath of musk; 

We heard low pipings in the trees, 

And clear notes dropping through the dusk. 



[21] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE FREEDOM OF THE HEIGHT 

TO H. M. B. 

We cast Convention's chains aside, 

And, care-free, left the city mart 
To seek upon the mountain side 

The peace that fills the Primal Heart. 

Oh, poet-friend I live once more 

The rapture of that perfect day! 
Again through God's wide open door 

We climb to Youth's eternal May! 

Again the quail pipes clear and strong, 
Again those tender hints of tune — 

The meadow lark's sweet threads of song 
Thick-woven through the afternoon. 

Of all that time the subtlest thing 

Of each glad hour is with me still, — 

The poppy's golden offering, 
The eagle's shadow on the hill. 

The spicy fragrance where we came 
To rest beneath the cypress trees, 

That butterfly with wings of flame, — 
A lilting lyric in the breeze! 

The songs that thrilled us as we climbed, 
The sea winds touched with tropic spring, 

The bird that trilled, the brook that rhymed, 
The wayside crickets gossiping. 



22 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



Beyond the rugged ridge we saw 

The sun retire in robes of red 
And watched the weary warrior draw 

Great amber curtains round his bed. 

White moon slow lifting in the east! 

Enchanting air and grassy crest! 
Oh, wonder of thy bacchic feast 

Thou riotous, barbaric West! 

All these were ours, while far away 
Beyond dusk meadows sloping down, 

The lights of bloom-hung San Jose 

Were gems that gleamed in Twilight's gown. 

Oh, joyous freedom of the height! 

Oh, rest that no world traffic mars 
Beneath the ancient roof of night 

And near the universal stars! 



[23] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE KING OF THE POLE 

Beyond the roar of the far north shore, 

Of the North Sea's hoary host, 
Beyond the grave of the wildest wave 

That harried the far north coast, 
He sits alone on his awful throne, 

At the utmost polar rim, — 
The Czar of old with his crown of cold 

Who dares men conquer him! 

'Neath the doom of gloom ringed round with 
room 
He has ruled since the years were young, 
And his frost-filled breath has the sting of 
death — 
This King of the silent tongue! 
Through the long, weird night in his robe of 
white 
He sits on the throne of Space, 
Yea, his realm is wide where men have died 
Who would meet him face to face! 

Oh, on and on past the dusk and dawn 

Where the ghostly regions are, 
Down the strange, dim ways of the sunless days 

And under the north's last star, 
Past the ice-barred gate of the wall of Fate, 

Unconquered and lone and dumb, 
The King of the Pole with the dauntless soul 

Dares the men of the earth to come! 



[24] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



DEAD MAN'S ISLAND: PUGET SOUND 

A dot of land, a rugged shore, 
A flock of birds, a crooked tree, 

Huge piles of rock where often roar 
The deep-voiced breakers of the sea. 

A ledge of sandstone gray and rough, 
A winding trail, some weeds, and then 

Two mounds of earth upon a bluff — 
Neglected graves of shipwrecked men. 

A stormy night, a vessel lost, 

White-crested waves that roll and reach, 
Two helpless creatures wildly tossed, 

Two sailors dying on the beach. 

And ever since a curse, a prayer, 
Unearthly moans and fiendish cries, 

Two figures groping here and there, 
Two faces pale with hollow eyes. 



[25] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



MID-SUMMER 



From crowded street and ceaseless din 
To summer's leafy woods we turn, 

And hear the brown thrush trill within 
The twilight deeps of tousled fern. 

Between dark shores of pine and fir 

The merry river leaps along — 
A clear-voiced poet — wanderer 

From out the mystic realm of Song. 

The air hangs thick with rich perfumes, 
Warm woodland odors, scents of musk; 

Tall lilies drowse in bramble glooms 
And glimmer through a dream of dusk. 

Where one frail branch slow sways and swings 
From shade to sunshine can be seen 

A scolding jay's bright, burnished wings — 
Two sapphire flames amid the green. 

We catch a glimpse from where we lie , 

Of nesting bird above, and higher 
Of lilting, yellow butterfly 

That flickers like a dying fire. , 

Oh, summer hours how swift thy flight ! 

Oh, love how dear those words of thine ! 
Two fond eyes beam with misty light; 

Two rose-red lips are pressed to mine. 



[26] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



STORM IN THE FOREST 

A low, deep roar like that of far-off seas 

When up sheer cliffs they strive to clamber 
higher, 

Dark clouds fast driven over gloom-hung trees 
And maddened by the lightning's lash of fire. 

A rush of wind, loud breathing of the pines, 
A shrieking bird in wild, bewildered flight, 

Big drops of rain that fall in slanting lines — 
Long lances gleaming from a wall of night. 

A thousand twigs torn from the maple's hold, 
The fir down-beaten, woeful cries of grief, 

Wide-spreading maples robbed of all their gold 
With wrenched limbs reaching for the last red 
leaf. 

The thunder's jar amid unearthly moans, 
A quick, sharp crash above the raging blast, 

Shrill pipings mingled with appalling groans 
And black, uncertain shapes blown swiftly past. 

A swollen streamlet tearing madly by, 

The broken boughs in dire confusion hurled, 

A riven forest and a clearing sky, 

The round sun flaming on a flooded world ! 



[27] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



WHY SANTA CLAUS FORGOT 

A wind from the south swept down the bay 
And pale with anger the waters turned 

As the ranchman's wife looked far away 
To where the lights of the city burned. 

Like feeble stars in that Christmas eve 
Were the pulsing lights beyond the tide; 

"Now play with your dolly and do not grieve," 
Said she to the wee one at her side. 

"Good Santa Claus will come to you 
This very night if you do not cry," 

And she wiped a tear like a drop of dew 
From the rosy cheek and the anxious eye. 

"No sail! No sail!" and the sad wife pressed 
A wan face close to the window pane, 

But naught she saw save the sea's white breast 
And the long gray lash of the hissing rain. 

The night fell black and the wild gale played 
In the chimney's throat a shrill, weird tune, 

While into a cloud as if afraid 

Stole the ghostly form of the groping moon. 

Then the steeds of the sea all landward came, 
Each panting courser thundered o'er 

The rocks of the reef and died in flame 
Along the utmost reach of shore. 



[28] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



Ah, heavy the heart of the ranchman's wife ! 

And long she listened, yet only heard 
The voice of the breakers in awful strife 

And the plaintive cry of a frightened bird. 

So long she waited and prayed for day 
As the firelight flickered upon the floor, 

While the prowling wind like a beast of prey 
Did growl and growl at the cabin door. 

The gray dawn crept through the weeping wood, 
The clouds set sail and all was still; 

With a breast of gold the fair morn stood 
Above the firs of the eastern hill. 

The waters slept and the raindrops clung 
Like shimmering pearls to the maple tree; 

The sky was clear and the brown birds flung 
Sweet showers of crystal melody. 

A splintered mast and a tattered sail 

Lay out in the sun on the hard, brown sands 

And plainer than words they told a tale 

To the woman who wept and wrung her hands. 

And the little girl with the gold-crowned head 
Looked up with her tear-wet eyes of blue; 

"Oh, please don't cry, mamma," she said, 
"Old Santa Claus forgot me, too." 



[29] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE STRICKEN CITY 

'Twas the feet of Fate at the city's gate 
We heard as the morn grew gray, 

'Twas a fierce, mad strife for a draught of Life 
We waged at the dawn of day ! 

'Twas Terror's tread and men lay dead 

In the tossed and tumbled town; 
Oh, the towers of trade how they waltzed and 
swayed 

When the world was shaken down! 

'Twas blood in the mart and woe in the heart, 

Aye horror and blood and tears, 
'Twas ruin and rout as we staggered out 

With our sudden weight of years ! 

'Twas palsied Fear that faced us here, 
And Pain with her haunting moans; 

'Twas black Despair in the baleful air 
And Death down under the stones ! 

'Twas the toppled spire and a sea of fire 

As red as the robe of Doom; 
From the far-off height in that awful night 

'Twas a rose of Hell in bloom! 



[30] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE RUSSET-BACKED THRUSH 

He dwells where pine and hemlock grow, 
A merry minstrel seldom seen; 

The voice of Joy is his I know — 
Shy poet of the Evergreen! 

In dawn's first holy hush I hear 
His one ecstatic, thrilling strain, 

So sweet and strong, so crystal-clear 
'Twould tingle e'en the soul of Pain. 

At close of day when Twilight dreams 
He shakes the air beneath his tree 

With such exquisite song it seems 

That Passion breathes through Melody. 

Within his shadow-world he sings 
Away from sun and light and bloom, 

For he alone it is that brings 
Keen rapture to the heart of Gloom. 



31] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE SEAGULL 

A ceaseless rover, waif of many climes, 

He scorns the tempest, greets the lifting sun 

With wings that fling the light and sinks at times 
To ride in triumph where the tall waves run. 

The rocks tide-worn, the high cliff brown and 
bare 
And crags of bleak, strange shores he rests 
upon; 
He floats above, a moment hangs in air 

Clean-etched against the broad, gold breast of 
dawn. 

When wild, strong billows reach in fiercest might 
To clutch the gems that fire the midnight sky, 

When anger turns the ocean's face to white, 
Then sounds afar his shrill, exultant cry. 

Bold haunter of the deep! Of thy swift flights 
What of them all brings keenest joy to thee, 

To drive sharp pinions through storm-beaten 
nights 
Or shriek amid black hollows of the sea ? 



[32] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



SUMMER HOURS 

Sweet, summer hours on mild Pacific's shore, 
Long, golden hours beside the western sea, 

Ah, would that I again might live them o'er; 
Those days of ecstasy ! 

I hear once more the gull's triumphant screech, 
And see our white tents glimmer in the sun, 

And far beyond the gleaming curve of beach 
Where foam-flecked breakers run. 

I feel the pressure of her tender hand, 
I drink the beauty of her hazel eyes 

As we together tread the hard, brown sand 
Beneath deep, sapphire skies. 

To her the crowding billows rise and bow 

And passion-fraught their pulses wildly beat, 

Like frenzied lovers they advance and now 
Fall prostrate at her feet. 

The creeping tide comes in across the reef, 
To landward drifts the fine, uprising spray, 

The cliff's one pine tree, moaning as with grief, 
Is wrapped in shrouds of gray. 

We breathe the fragrance of the evening air, 
And watch the red sun sinking to his rest 

The while the startled waters flame and flare 
Against the glowing west. 



[33] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



We sit within the blazing driftwood's glow 
And listen to old ocean's mournful tone, 

We gaze enchanted as the surges throw 
White fire on crag and stone. 

Ne'er will my memory lose those haunting seas, 
That wave-born music crashing through the 
night, 

The long-lashed stars, Pacific's balmy breeze, 
Nor breaker's wall of light! 



[34] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



EVENING ON THE RANCH 

The sunshine gilds the moss-robed roofs 
And glares upon the window panes; 

By twos and threes the lazy herd 

Strolls down the winding, dusty lanes. 

The flushed sun sinks; the gold-blurred west 
Shows dimly through the maple boughs ; 

The stars flame out; within their stalls 
The wearied oxen dream and drowse. 

Like some huge ship with hull afire 
The crescent moon in vast, wild seas 

Of somber pine slow settles down 
And burns the black tops of the trees. 

A sudden silence, deep, profound, 

Steals through the wan, uncertain light, 

And now one lone frog's flageolet 
Rings clear across the falling night. 



[35] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



IN MAY 



The lavish sun sifts all his gold 

Upon the hills to-day; 
The snowy lilies star the dusk 

In every woodland way; 
The pilgrim breakers on the shore 

Are kneeling now to pray. 

The robin's flute rings sweet and strong 

From out the maple tree ; 
The gray grouse seeks the cedar's shade 

And beats his drum for me; 
The joyous meadow-lark flings down 

A haunting melody. 

The dog-wood blooms are round and white 

Each like a glowing moon; 
The west wind strikes the great pine-harps 

And finds them all in tune ; 
A bluebird flashes by whose wings 

Have brushed the skies of June. 



[36] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE MEADOW-LARK 

The towering fir is bathed in dew, 

And countless gems are clinging there; 
A joyous lark amid the blue 

Sends rippling music down the air, 
And when on boughs that droop apart 

Each bead of crystal pulses bright 
His song has touched the dewdrop's heart 

And made it quiver with delight. 



NOVEMBER 

The chill wind blows across the hills, 
Dead leaves are whirling down, 

The earth now wears a rustling robe 
Of crimson and of brown. 

Broad maples wave their naked arms 

Like phantoms to and fro, 
The sky looks gray — I almost see 

December's coming snow. 



[37] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE DESERTED CABIN 

Tall thistles grow about the door, 
And up and down the mouldy wall, 
Through rotten wood, black spiders crawl; 
Across its roof the chipmunks run, 
The chinks let in the dying sun 
Who lays his red swords on the floor ; 
But hark ! A dismal autumn blast 
Sweeps up the gulch and 'round apast 
The cabin, — now a sudden moan 
Within the chimney's mouth of stone, 
While on the hearth the blackened brands 
Are touched, are moved by unseen hands. 



THE BLUE HERON 

Of homely form and solemn mien, 
With dagger beak and legs so slim 

One thinks of him as visions seen 
In olden dreams, now vague and dim. 

With lifted head and searching eye, 
In uniform of blue and gray, 

He watches from the tree top high — 
The sentinel of cove and bay. 

And oft as twilight blurs the sea 
I mark his flight along the shore, 

A strange shape winging cautiously, 
A fleeting shadow — nothing more. 



[38 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE SEA OF THE NORTH 

Along the lone shore of the northland the wild 
waves incessantly thunder; 
White-helmeted warriors are they that wrestle 
and roar on the reef; 
So full of deep woe is the voice of these turbulent 
waters, I wonder 
If this mourning sea of the North is not the 
gray mother of Grief. 

The bold frowning headlands loom dim through 
the spray of the seas that are dashing 
High over the foam-covered ledges and brown, 
rugged rocks of the coast ; 
I see the plumed legions ride landward and list 
to their terrible crashing, 
Their furious tumult and clamor — the wail of 
a down-trodden host! 

At the base of the beetling cliff the caverns are 
moaning and sobbing, 
And the great flakes of froth from the waves 
are as white as the gay gull that flees 
Where the far-reaching billows are wildest ; and, 
ah, how my pulses are throbbing 
As I view the strong sweep of the surf and the 
marvelous shatter of seas! 



39 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



But the surges that fawn at my feet have a sound 
like a serpent's fierce hisses, 
And though the pale lips of the breakers are 
pressed to the stone as they climb 
Toward the crest of the crag, yet I know, in 
spite of your passionate kisses, 
Your heart ever hungers for horror, oh, hoar- 
locked companion of Time! 



[40] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



COPALIS 



High above the strong Pacific, rising solemnly 
and lone 

Looms the rugged rock, Copalis, like a mountain 
built of stone. 

Break the heavy waves against it, roaring 
through its caverns wide, 

Caverns worn by maddened waters and the moon- 
enchanted tide. 

All around are curling breakers, sifting spray 
and flying foam, 

Where the slim sea otter gambols and the gray 
gull has a home. 

All around is fierce commotion, pale forms reach- 
ing to the skies, 

Sounds of awful cannonading, haunting moans 
and battle cries. 

Clinging to its craggy summit, fastened down 
with massive chains, 

Bathed in Summer's yellow sunshine, drenched 
in Winter's driving rains, 

Rests a low, quaint hut, the dwelling of the 
brave Copalis Jim — 

Rests the hut whose door is opened — opened 
never save by him. 

From this airy habitation keen black eyes peer 
on the seas, 

Raven locks are tossed and tangled in the sigh- 
ing ocean breeze. 

Night and morn he scans the billows marching 
grandly far below, 

Night and morn he sees the warriors with their 
helmets wrought of snow. 

[41] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



Day by day he keeps his vigil caring naught for 

any man, 
Watching ever with the patience that the otter 

hunter can. 
Oft his swarthy face grows eager, oft his rifle 

darts its flame 
And a dying creature struggles from that quick, 

unerring aim. 
Oft when midnight winds are calling in his mind 

sad thoughts arise, 
Thoughts of her who held him captive by the 

magic of her eyes. 
In his dreams she stands before him as she stood 

in days agone, 
Ere his heart had grown more hardened than the 

rock he dwells upon. 
And he hears her laughter ringing like the echoes 

of a lute 
Through the forest, still and somber, down the 

vales of Quillayute. 
And again he sits beside her speaking tender 

words of love 
With the fragrant flowers surrounding and the 

waving green above. 
But the thunder of the breakers and the sea 

bird's piercing scream 
From the ledges, brown and jagged, break the 

vision of his dream. 
Ah ! Nawanda, false Nawanda, with your artless 

maiden grace, 
Think you never of your lover living in this 

lonely place? 
He, whose fondest hopes you shattered, now a 

hermit, mute, alone, 
Far away on bleak Copalis, on a mountain built 

of stone. [ 42 ] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



WHERE SOLITUDE ABIDES 

Alone it stands beside the western sea ; 
The hands of Time have laid a robe of green 
Upon its roof; in each deserted room 
The gathered mould of many years is seen, 
And spiders, black and hairy, weave and weave 
Round, wondrous webs like magic nets of light; 
Within the walls and o'er the sounding floors 
The shy mice scurry in the silent night, 
And dart across those wan and wavering lines 
The moon pours through the window's wreath 
of vines. 

Deserted is the place; the orchard trees 
Neglected; close against the creaking door 
Dry weeds are clustered, and the passing gust 
Snow flakes of drifting thistle-down ; no more 
Bright roses bloom along the garden path 
Nor lift their burning petals to the sun ; 
The straggling, scarlet briars have overgrown 
The narrow way ; the dingy gate no one 
Now enters ; in deep grass the slim stream hides 
And speaks no word where Solitude abides. 



[43] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE COUGAR 

He lies in wait where woods are dim 
Low-crouched upon a mossy limb, 
While each leaf shakes at sight of him. 

The graceful fawn and timid doe 
Tread down the clover blooms below; 
Two yellow flames his great eyes grow. 

Ah, meek, gray doe and spotted fawn 

You little know as you stroll on 

That he lurks near with daggers drawn ! 

And, oh, how sudden is the spring, 

How keen the claws that earthward bring 

The brown-eyed mother shuddering! 

A crimson pool upon the ground, 

A low death wail; the mournful sound 

Of weeping from the firs around. 

A gory feast, with fangs that tear; 
A cluster of tall ferns, from where 
A lone fawn looks in mute despair. 



[44] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



DECEMBER 



Heaps of leaves on the wet earth lying, 

Dead ferns robing the rocky hill, 
Fallow field and tall fir sighing, 

Barren boughs that are never still. 

Flocks of crows in the woodland cawing, 

Wind-wound grass where the creek goes by, 

Over the waters the wild ducks drawing 
Long black lines on the leaden sky. 

Pale seas sobbing on ragged reaches, — 
Sorrowful mourners bowed in prayer — 

Wide-winged gulls with sharp, shrill screeches 
Piercing like poinards the misty air. 

Bleak, chill night and drear rain falling, 

Cheerless morn all clad in gray, 
Only the weary south wind calling, 

Only the loon on the lonely bay. 



[45] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE WRECK OF THE FERNDALE 

Hoarse with calling, pale with anger, 
From dim dawn till set of sun 

Wind-blown billows, crowding landward, 
Shook the shores of Washington. 

Stalwart seas tramped down the beaches, 
Giant seas, each thunder-toned, 

Lunged against the rugged headlands 
While the mighty caverns groaned. 

Roared along the sandy reaches, 
Foaming, panting in the race, 

Struck the clifFs opposing ledges, 
Leaped to smite its massive face. 

Leaped and flung their white arms wildly 
Then, all baffled, backward fled 

Moaning, sobbing on the shingle 
Like a mother o'er her dead. 

Night fell black upon the waters, 

Night with no star throbbing through; 

Fiercer yet the waters battled, 

Stronger still the cold wind blew. 

Every pine upon the hilltop 
Cried in anguish, cried in vain, 

And the ranchman's wife peered seaward 
With her face against the pane. 



U6] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



Heard the waves' loud cannonading, 
Saw at times a lifting light — 

Fiery soul of sky-tossed breaker 
Burning through the raven night. 

Listened sadly at the window 

Thinking of the ships at sea, 
Of wrecked sailors drifting helpless, 

And the Storm-king's fiendish glee. 

Hark! What sound above the breakers? — 

Was it but the sudden shock 
Of a seething sea bombarding 

Towering battlements of rock? 

Was it but the crashing thunder 

Of a fir tree's rugged form; 
Of a fir tree that had fallen 

As it wrestled with the storm? 

No, ah, no ! Again the gun spoke 
And the ranchman's wife grew pale; 

"God have mercy on a vessel 
Driven shoreward by the gale!" 

"God above have mercy on them ! 

He alone can still the waves !" 
"Hear them calling!" "They will perish!" 

"How the ocean roars and raves !" 

Thus spake trembling, care-worn women, 
Sturdy ranchmen, young and old, 

As they gathered on the North Beach 
In the darkness and the cold. 

[47] 



f" SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



All the night their lanterns glimmered 
In the wild wind's icy breath, 

While the surf grew thick with cordage 
And the breakers talked of death. 

All the night they watched and waited 
Where the hoary foam-flakes flew; 

One by one along the North Beach 
Drifted in the Ferndale's crew. 

One by one they drifted lifeless 

To the bleak Pacific sands, 
Salt tears on their pallid faces, 

Sea-weeds in their hardened hands. 

Eyes of pity looked upon them, 
Looked upon them where they lay, 

As the morn came softly stealing — 
Saddened morn in robe of gray. 

And above the heaving waters 
In the daybreak, chill and grim, 

One lone mast yet pointed upward- 
Pointed upward unto Him. 



[48] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



SUNRISE 



The sun climbs up with burning feet, 
The sea is now a tossing sheet 
Fire-fringed where shore and waters meet. 

Upon the crest of yonder height 
Each tall, dead cedar, slim and white, 
Is but a lifted lance of light. 



IN JANUARY 

To-day a pall obscures the sky, 
And loudly beats the chilling rain, 

The seas grow tall, the foam flies high, 
The crags along the shore complain. 

A wild gust bends the great fir tops, 
The cedar moans, the hemlock grieves, 

A maple shakes down cold, clear drops 
And drowns the fire of fallen leaves. 



[49] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



FALLING LEAVES 

Flowers have flown from hill and hollow, 
And the world is saddened now ; 

Chill winds lead and dead leaves follow, 
Empty nest and barren bough. 

Rusted grass the gusts entangle, 
Loudly pipe the orchard trees; 

All the day the white gulls wrangle 
In the spray of sullen seas. 

All the day the waves are breaking 
On the shore with sob and sigh ; 

Birds their southward flight are taking 
Underneath a leaden sky. 

Gone the summer's golden weather, 
Gone the shaded woodland ways ; 

Song and blossom die together, 
In the drear November days. 



[50] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 
THE WONDER-WORKER 

The vagrant Wind was out today, 

And through the sunny summer hours, 
He roamed the blue field of the bay — 
• An ancient fashioner of flowers. 

He heaped them high in windrows white, 
He strewed them on the pebbled shore, 

And as they faded from my sight 
This old magician wrought still more. 

A thousand wreaths he tossed the land, 
Rare garlands at my feet he lay, 

He scattered blossoms on the sand 
And flung each cliff a pale bouquet. 



[51] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE WOODS OF THE WEST 

Oh, woods of the west, leafy woods that I love, 

Where through the long days I have heard 
The prayer of the wind in the branches above 

And the tremulous song of the bird, 
Where the clustering blooms of the dog-wood 
hang o'er — 

White stars in the dusk of the pine, 
And down the dim aisles of the old forest pour 

The sunbeams that melt into wine ! 

Oh, woods of the west, how oft to your shade 

Have I come in the hot summer hours, 
And trod the green mantle lone Solitude laid 

Through the deeps of your night-haunted 
bowers, 
And lingered beside the pure, crystalline 
streams — 

Those poets that rhyme as they run, 
And watched in the shallows the silvery gleams 

Of the minnows in meshes of sun! 

Oh, woods of the west, I am sighing to-day 

For the sea-songs your voices repeat, 
For the evergreen glades, for the glades far away 

From the stifling air of the street, 
And I long, ah, I long to be with you again 

And to dream in that region of rest, 
Forever apart from this warring of men — 

Oh, wonderful woods of the west! 



[52] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



ECSTASY 



What keen, sweet rapture must have thrilled 
The heart of Nature when she heard 
The first glad lyric of a bird! 

When that impassioned music spilled 
From out the deeps of dawn — ah me, 
'Twas then God fashioned Ecstasy! 

THE DAWN OF CHRISTMAS DAY 

The winds are dead, and ah, how still! 
The stars are large ; a silver blade 
Yon homeward sailing moon has made 

Upon the somber, wooded hill. 

The towering fir trees breathe a prayer, 
And lo, each white star hides away 
Behind a fallen robe of gray, 

And bird notes thrill the morning air ! 

An overflowing cup of wine 

Is slowly lifting in the east ; 

Awake, oh, man, to Beauty's feast, 
The glory of the sky is thine ! 

And now from peaks that flash and gleam 
The golden light of dawn is hurled 
Across the rugged, western world, 

And drenches hill and vale and stream. 

Oh, hallowed day when Christ was born 
Bring sweetest peace to everyone; 
From land of snow to land of sun 

Let love prevail on Christmas morn! 

[S3] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



LONG AGO 



Oh, that I again could be 

Down there by that peaceful sea, 

Down there where I used to go 

In the summers long ago! 

You are gone, my boyhood's mate, 

You who met me at the gate 

Nevermore will say, "Come, Joe, 

Follow me and I will show 

Sweetest roses, fresh and gay, 

Purple pansies, new-mown hay, 

Lovely apples, blushing red, 

Big pears, larger than your head!" 

Nevermore will we go through 

Fields of clover, where the dew 

Fell like tiny globes of light 

From the blooms of pink and white ; 

Nevermore at golden noon 

Listen to the robin's tune 

Thrill the very heart of June. 

Ah, how happy were we two, 

What a merry maiden you, 

Romping under azure skies 

With flushed cheeks and laughing eyes, 

And I thought your blowing hair 

Had, within its silken snare, 

Caught the fringes of the pall 

That the night throws over all ! 

I remember how you ran 

With a "beat me if you can!" 

Out to where the ebbing tide 

Left the beach so cool and wide ; 

How we gathered brown seaweeds, 

Pearly shells and floating reeds, 

[54] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



And with chubby little hand 
Wrote my name upon the sand; 
How we watched o'er waters blue 
Distant sails fade from our view 
While you cried in glee, "I know 
They are melting flakes of snow !" 
Then, when joyous day was done, 
And the slowly sinking sun 
Lifted broad, bright bars of gold 
From beneath the maples old, 
And the pale stars faintly gleamed- 
Silver dots to us they seemed — 
You would sometimes almost cry 
As I said, "Well, Floss, good-by." 
You are dead and I am gray, 
Coldly pipes the wind to-day 
As I sit and wonder still 
If the orchard on the hill 
Looks the same, and if the lawn 
Is the one we played upon, 
And if on your distant grave 
Flowers grow and grasses wave, 
And the robin chirps to you 
Just the way he used to do. 



[55] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



LOVE AND I 



She was my own, was all my own, 
I loved her in an unknown land, 

She rained warm kisses on my brow, 
And o'er the shining, dimpled sand 
We went together, hand in hand, 

And watched the pale waves rise and bow. 

All nature seemed to worship her ; 

The sea's great heart would beat and beat 

If she but danced along the shore ; 
The strolling sun laid at her feet 
His rich red robe, and loud and sweet 

The birds sang to her evermore. 

I thought her love for me was true, 
She was so good, she was so fair; 

I drank her beauty day by day ; 
A gleam of snow — a bosom bare 
Shone through her tangled, twilight hair ; 

I loved her more than I can say. 

Alas! her dark eyes changed to green, 
Each glance was like a piercing dart; 

I silent stood; I could but stare, 

While freezing fingers clutched my heart ; 
She raised an arm, "We now must part ; 

I'm Love," quoth she, "henceforth beware!" 



[56] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



MORNING 



Asleep lie the waves on the black, winding 
beaches, 

The peaks to the west are dim shadows afar, 
A gull drifts high over ; the dreamy dawn reaches 

A wan, holy hand to the pale morning star. 

The deep woodland thrills to the song of the 
thrushes ; 
Now comes the fair Morn with a rose on her 
breast, 
While the great Sea awakens and trembles and 
blushes, 
Then dons a gold garment to welcome his 
guest. 



[57] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



DESERTED 



A rack of poles half tumbled down, 

A clear creek gliding softly by, 
A mound of shells, sharp-edged and brown, 

With clouds of insects swarming nigh. 

A broken arrow, spear of bone, 

An image shaped by unskilled hands, 

A mat of reeds, strange beads of stone, 

The slow, white smoke from scattered brands. 

A long-armed maple gaunt and bare, 

Slim shadows crossed upon the ground, 

A buzzard wheeling high in air, 
A lean wolf lurking close around. 



[58] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



OCTOBER 



These are the days of purple haze 

When leaf takes flame and flower has flown, 
When clouds drift o'er and to the shore 

The sea talks in an undertone; 
When trill of thrush in woodland hush 

Is Rapture's laughter, low and sweet, 
And brooks steal down through grasses brown 

With silver sandals on their feet. 



[59] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE SUICIDE 

A wild, weird night it was; the sharp, curved 
moon — 

A shining sabre hurled across the sky- 
Cut through a beggared cloud ; beneath each tree 

Were shadows madly dancing to the high 
Shrill piping of the wind and to the beat 

Of barren limbs that ever writhed and swayed 
Above the frosty earth, above the form 

Of her who hastened onward undismayed, 
Who stood upon the cliff's huge brow of stone, 
With floating hair a raven banner blown! 

Loud roared the sea below and fierce he strove 
To scale that crag and climbed and surged and 
blew 
From hoarsely laughing lips great flakes of 
foam, 
Then in his awful strength reached up and 
drew 
Her close against his breast. The deep caves 
rang; 
The billows rose like mighty wings and seemed 
To fan the very stars so brightly did 

They burn; the whole, vast ocean shone and 
gleamed 
With phosphorescent light — the pines upon 
The hill raised rugged arms and prayed for 
dawn! 



60] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



SAILING 



Wind and wave and gold-washed weather, 
Wind flung loose and wave set free ; 

She and I alone together 
Sailing on a sapphire sea. 

Clang and clamor of the crowded 

City street is heard no more; 
Only billows, foam enshrouded, 

Freighting music to the shore! 

Sail full blown and sharp prow flinging 

Floods of song on either side; 
White gulls in the wide blue winging — 

Gipsies of the roving tide ! 

Peaks afar that know the splendor 
Of the sunset's waste of wine; 

Twilight sky grown strangely tender 
Like the eyes that look in mine. 



[61] 






SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



THE WINDING TRAIL 

Banish care and follow after! 

Heed the voice of hill and vale! 
Brooks shall lead us with their laughter 

All along the Winding Trail. 

Leave the babel of the city, 

Of the teeming, scheming marts — 

Mammon, deaf to prayers of Pity, 
Trafficking in human hearts ! 

Through the wood as we go wending 
What rare music shall be heard — 

Lyrics in the sweet, unending 
Conference of bough and bird! 

There the south breeze softly blowing 
Fans the wild rose to a flame, 

And the river, seaward flowing, 
Signs in silver Beauty's name. 

There, afar from Trade's loud clamor 
Gold shall starve the soul no more; 

And the flicker's rhythmic hammer 
Fall upon the forest's door. 

There, on branches drooping lowly, 
Where the rhyming waters run, 

Wren and robin feel the holy, 
Warm baptism of the sun. 



[62] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



Let us hasten! We shall follow 
To the haunts of bloom and bee; 

Down the trail that threads the hollow 
With no guide but Fantasy. 

Do not linger! Follow faster! 

Flower and tree know naught of Doubt! 
Hear the harpists of the Master 

Shake the maple's music out! 

What care we if ways be hilly, 
Joy shall wait where'er we turn, 

Here an orchid, there a lily, 
In the shadow of a fern! 

We shall pass those leafy portals, 
Though the Winding Trail be long, 

To the realm of dreaming mortals 
Who would seek the shrine of Song! 



[6 3 ] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



A SEA LYRIC 

Give me Song that shall enravish! 

Wild wave-anthems to entrance! 
All the volume of the lavish 

Sea's impassioned utterance! 

Music heard by weary ages 

Ere a poet yet had sung — 
Such as shook old bards and sages 

When the ancient Dawn was young! 

Oh to feel the awe and wonder 
Of the songs he sang to them, 

All the deep, eternal thunder 
Of his garment's' hoary hem! 

Give me all his storm of passion, 

Storm of song and rage of rhyme- 
Give me all his power to fashion 
Epics for the ear of Time! 



[6 4 ] 



SONGS OF WOOD AND WAVE 



ALICE 



Of deepest blue of summer skies 
Is wrought the heaven of her eyes. 

Of that fine gold the autumns wear 
Is wrought the glory of her hair. 

Of rose leaves fashioned in the* south 
Is shaped the marvel of her mouth. 

And from the honeyed lips of bliss 
Is drawn the sweetness of her kiss, 

'Mid twilight thrushes that rejoice 
Is found the cadence of her voice, 

Of winds that wave the western fir 
Is made the velvet touch of her. 

Of all earth's songs God took the half 
To make the ripple of her laugh. 

I hear you ask "Pray who is she?" — 
This maid that is so dear to me. 

"A reigning queen in Fashion's whirl ?" 
Nay, nay! She is my baby girl. 



[65] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
ONE AUTUMN NIGHT 

Can I forget that glorious, autumn night 
So full of joyous pain when you and I 
Stood on the shore beneath a cloudless sky 
And watched the moon, all drenched with holy 

light, 
Sail slowly up and toss a veil of white 
Across the heaving sea? — when waves rode by 
And pressed broad palms upon the rocks, to try 
And bear away the rough stone from our sight? 
Ah, no ! 'Twas then I spoke to you of love ; 
My secret which you long ere that had guessed ; 
'Twas then I first knew passion's fiery heat 
And kissed your cheek, your lips, while high 
above 
A great star shook and in its burning breast, 
As in my own, a red heart beat and beat. 



[69] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
BY THE PACIFIC 

From this quaint cabin window I can see 

The strange, vague line of ghostly driftwood, 

though 
No ray of silver moon or soft star glow 

Steals through the summer night's solemnity. 

Pale forms drive landward and wild figures flee 
Like spectres up the shore; I hear the slow, 
Firm tread of marching billows which I know 

Will walk beside the years that are to be. 

Sweet, gentle sleep is banished from mine eyes, 
I lie and think of wrecks until the sobs 

And groans of drowning sailors lost at sea 

Come mingled with the gray gulls' plaintive cries 
And those tumultuous, incessant throbs — 
The heavy heart-beats of Eternity. 



[70] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
A PICTURE 

A low-roofed cottage, and beyond a pine, 

Whose poet-heart knows naught but melody; 
A green lawn sloping to a placid sea 
All sunset flushed ; a brook that draws a line 
Of silver where gold poppy petals shine 
Amid pink clover blooms; a maple tree — 
A cloud of green that hovers silently 
Above a sweet-breathed honeysuckle vine 
Along an ambling fence ; a little gate, 

And she in maiden beauty standing there, 
The pure, young face half ringed with raven 
night ; 
The soft, pink cheeks and burning lips that wait 
My coming, and the dusky eyes turned where 
A gray road wavers through the waning 
light. 



[71] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
NIGHT IN CAMP 

Fierce burns our fire of driftwood; overhead 
Gaunt maples lift long arms against the night ; 
The stars are sobbing, — sorrow-shaken, white, 
And high they hang, or show sad eyes grown 

red 
With weeping for their queen, — the moon, just 
dead. 
Black shadows backward reel when tall and 

bright 
The broad flames stand and fling a golden 
light 
On mats of soft green moss around us spread. 
A sudden breeze comes in from off the sea, 
The vast, old forest draws a troubled breath, 
A leaf awakens; up the shore of sand 
The slow tide, silver-lipped, creeps noiselessly; 
The campfire dies ; then silence deep as death ; 
The darkness pushing down upon the land. 



[72] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
MORNING IN CAMP 

A bed of ashes and a half-burned brand 

Now mark the spot where last night's campfire 

sprung 
And licked the dark with slender, scarlet 
tongue ; 
The sea draws back from shores of yellow sand 
Nor speaks lest he awake the sleeping land. 
Tall trees grow out of shadows; high among 
Their somber boughs one clear, sweet song is 
sung, 
In deep ravine by drooping cedars spanned 
All drowned in gloom, a flying pheasant's whirr 
Rends morning's solemn hush; gray rabbits 
run 
Across the clovered glade, while far away 
Upon the hills each huge, expectant fir 
Holds open arms in welcome to the sun — 
Great, pulsing heart of bold, advancing day ! 



[73] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
ALONE UPON THE MOUNTAIN SIDE 

Alone upon the mountain side — alone 
In Solitude's eternal realm, where no 
Sound enters save at intervals the low, 
Deep roar of avalanche; huge walls of stone 
The mighty hand of God has overthrown 
As He builds high His pyramid of snow — 
His stairway to the stars; alone I go 
Across a white, white world that ne'er has known 
The taint of earth ; and now I see far down 
The dreaming pines ; I see an eagle sweep 
Athwart the blue; a gleaming river bind 
In gorgeous braid the valley's golden gown; 
A cataract plunge o'er the distant steep 
And flutter like a ribbon in the wind. 



[74] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
DAWN ON PUGET SOUND 

The wooded hill against the sky's pale glow 
Looms huge and black; the stars fade from 

my sight — 
Those trembling tear-drops of the mourner 
Night; 
The sea is gray; a gull on wings of snow 
Drifts noiselessly; all things are hushed as 
though 
In wonder at God's mystery of light; 
Above the peaks the sky grows strangely 
white ; 
Somewhere a bird from sudden overflow 
Of joy bursts into song — a strain so fine 
Each leaf is tingling with the melody; 

The east has hints of gold; the night is 

gone ; 

The dimpled tide is flushed with dreams of wine, 

And, lo, in gorgeous splendor smiles the sea 

Beneath the pink feet of the new-born 

Dawn! 



[75] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
NOON ON PUGET SOUND 

The sea is like a sapphire in the glare 

Of noon — the pulsing, gleaming sea that lies 
Between tall peaks, beneath deep violet skies ; 
The gulls in silver clouds drift down the air, 
And on my brow, pure as a maiden's prayer, 
The cool wind lingers ; now a gray grouse tries 
His muffled drum amid the firs that rise 
Above the pebbled shore, and here and there 
The salmon flash their sabers in the sun; 
A fisher's dingy boat slow drowses through 
The opal waters, and far off a white 
Sail shimmers in the haze; clear streamlets run 
From slopes of emerald and kiss the blue 
On beaches that are dazzling lanes of light. 



176] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
EVENING ON PUGET SOUND 

His crimson sword the dying sun lets fall 
Across the sea and all the water glows 
With sudden splendor — one great flaming 
rose; 
The peaks burst into bloom; each icy wall 
Is bathed in fire; each fir, green-robed and tall, 
Is now a golden tower ; a cool wind blows 
From off the chaste Olympics' shadowed 
snows ; 
Far, far away a loon's long, quavering call 
Sounds faintly in the restful, twilight air ; 
The sweet dusk deepens and majestic Night — 
Mother of dreams and sleep — sinks silently 
Upon the land ; the tide steals in and where 
The ripples dance I watch the red stars write 
In fiery lines God's message to the sea. 



[77] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE PIONEER 

Oh, staunch path-finder! Grizzled pioneer! 
Your brown, thick-furrowed face has known 

the heat 
Of sun-scorched plain and felt the stinging 
sleet 
On mountain peaks. Yet ever of good cheer 
You toiled, though lean, pale Hunger came so 
near 
You heard the tread of his approaching feet; 
Dark-browed Despair you sometimes down- 
ward beat 
And stood above the prostrate form of Fear. 
I count you as a soldier brave and true ; 
A hero loved of heroes, whose strong hand 
Upheld the flag of Progress to the skies ; 
Who suffered patiently and never knew 
Defeat, and who within a wild, weird land 
Did strike the blow that bade a new world 
rise. 



[78] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
TO THE SEA 

I ne'er can say, oh, ancient, wrinkled Sea! 
In what one mood of yours I love you most — 
Gray pilgrim slowly plodding down the coast; 

At times I think you are most dear to me 

When you have wedded Calm, or when, maybe, 
Like some grim conqueror of old you boast 
In kingly pride your mighty, maddened host 

That jars the world with its white cavalry. 

Again, I stand enraptured when in nights 

Of storm you are awakened from your dreams 
And let each foaming, untamed charger free, 

When fire of crashing cannon weirdly lights 
Earth's rock-built battlements — oh, then it 
seems 
That you are even more than Majesty! 



[79] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
IF SHE SHOULD DIE 

If she should die — the thought of utter gloom 
And untold grief through all my years is this. 
I shudder, God! What loneliness to miss 

Her loving presence from our cozy room 

And know within a damp and darkened tomb 
There lies the heart I draw in rapturous bliss 
Against my own; the tender cheek I kiss 

Whereon a crimson flower is now in bloom. 

Each bird would follow in her spirit's flight, 
At break of dawn the rose shed tears of woe 
Its trembling lips held upward to the sky, 

A star in heaven shine with such a light 
'Twould be a marvel to the world below, — 
If she should die — if my loved one should 
die. 



[80 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
SINCE SHE IS GONE 

Since she is gone the moments pass me by 
So slow — so slow it often seems to me 
Gray Time has grown so very old that he 

Moves like a palsied man about to die. 

Through all the black hours of the night I lie 
With empty arms and hearken to the sea 
Along the barren shore moan wearily, 

And hear the homeless wind make sad reply. 

Once more upon my brow I long to feel 

The fire of her red lips that thrilled me 
through ; 
To see her warm, white bosom fall and rise 

And all the passion of her soul reveal, 
And look, O God, and look again into 

The deep blue heaven of her lustrous eyes! 



[81] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE SILENT WOODS 

The lone abode of Twilight and Repose 
Is this deep forest of my western land; 
In the eternal hush the slim ferns stand ; 
Above, the cedar and the hemlock doze 
In velvet robes of green the dank moss throws 
From massive bough to bough ; on either hand 
Time's drapery shrouds all and weirdly grand 
Are these dim aisles the sunshine never knows. 
The frail, white lilies glimmer in the gloom 
Like feeble stars within the thicket's night, 
Or slender tapers which the wood-nymphs 
keep 
Faint-burning in each close, dusk-haunted room 
That their wan glow, perchance, may serve to 
light 
The feet of Silence through the halls of 
Sleep. 



[82] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE FALL OF THE FIR 

A sudden shudder of each limb; a cry 
Of agony, and downward to his fate 
The giant rushes with the hiss of Hate; 
A lone, white star is shaken from the high 
Dark boughs that sweep across the twilight sky; 
With bated breath the stalwart woodsmen 

wait; 
And now a mighty roar as when a great. 
Foam-crested sea, heart-broken, comes to die 
Upon the crags, or when the Storm-king swings 
His lash of flame ; an avalanche of sound 
That stirs the ancient solitude until 
The whole earth trembles and mute Silence flings 
Her shattered form upon the shaking ground, 
And frightened Echo flees from hill to hill. 



[83] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE FISHERMEN: PUGET SOUND 

Today my inland, fir-enshadowed sea 
In such untroubled slumber lies below 
The fire-filled dome of azure that her slow, 
Soft breathing scarce breaks the tranquillity 
Of her broad, burnished breast. There comes to 
me 
From where the beach gleams like a drift of 

snow 
High flung against a wall of green, the low 
Caressing tongue of far-off Italy, 
And through dark boughs I see strong fishermen, 
Black-browed and swarthy, toiling with all 
might 
At dripping net; I see the flash of oar, 
That silvered mass imprisoned there, 

And then a sudden flood of vivid, burning 
light 
Poured out upon the slanting, sandy shore. 



[8 4 ] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
JUNE 

The peerless skies of June bend over me, 

And, ah, what happiness the queen month 

brings ! 
The balmy air is full of whirring wings; 
The clover blooms are white on hill and lea, 
And to the nodding rose the bumble-bee 
Repeats his confidential murmurings, 
While in the dusky dell the wood-thrush sings 
A song so sweet 'twould gladden Ecstasy; 
And, oh, the joy I feel to lie care-free, 
Beneath broad maples that the robins love, 
Within the sound of rhyming, silver streams, 
And watch the butterfly lilt drowsily 

From flower to flower, and faintly hear, above, 
The lisp of leaves like echoes heard in 
dreams ! 



[85 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 



ON THE MARSH 



Beneath a dark and brooding winter's sky 
The somber, melancholy marsh today 
Lies desolate, wind-ridden, drear and gray; 

Amid the rusty reeds the sea-birds cry; 

The tawny, swirling river loiters by 

Dwarf willows and in silence winds away 
Across bleak levels to the foamy bay; 

Above, with whistling wings the swift teal 

To murky pools among the woven grass; 

The geese call from the clouds; a veil of rain 
Now dims the distance, and the chill gusts 
make 

Shrill pipings in the rushes as they pass, 
And moan along the waste as if in pain, 
Or hiss through tangled tules like a snake. 



[86] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
MT. RAINIER 

Like autumn leaves the years may fall upon 
His brow from off the ancient tree of Time, 
Yet will he tower above the dust and grime 
Of earth! The first pink petals of the dawn 
That bloomed into the flower of day; the wan 
And hesitating moon's first skyward climb 
He viewed in silent majesty sublime; 
The fir proclaims him king, the great seas fawn 
And weave fair garlands at his feet ; each stream 
Salutes with flashing sword ; the wildest storm 
That beats against his massive breast ne'er mars 

The deep serenity of his white dream; 
At night how vaguely grim his awful form, 
High-looming in God's wilderness of stars! 



[87] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
TO A MOUNTAIN BROOK 

Oh, all thy days are lyrical and white 

Thou crystal Rapture animate and free ! 
The gospel of the Peak is voiced in thee, 
And as thy soul is radiant, so might 
My own be filled with melody and light, 
My life run on to the Unbounded Sea 
In growing breadth and perfect purity 
Did I, too, voice the spirit of the Height ! 
Ah, could I know how thy sweet songs are 
wrought — 
Thy rhapsody that thrills the woodland ways, 
Such sacred lessons would be mine to teach, 
For pure as Truth must be the hidden thought 
That strives to form in some impassioned 
phrase 
Yet ever trembles on the brink of Speech ! 



88] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 



THE MODERN PAGAN 

Of all that walk the world today, I hold 
That man the lowest of the pagan breed 
Whose body is a soulless house of Greed, 

Whose heart is but a hardened lump of mould, 

Who worships but an idol wrought of gold — 
An idol fashioned out of Human Need — 
Who consecrates his life to this one creed, 

"Get riches though men's very blood be sold!" 

The starving poor — what recks he of their woes ? 
And what to him the bitter cry of pain 
Of all that bleed beneath Oppression's rod? 

No lily speaks to him, no climbing rose; 

He hearkens only to the voice of Gain 
And grips in clammy palms his yellow god. 



[89] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
CUBA, 1897 

O God, that I might breathe of Freedom's air! 
Alone I weep today — alone, forlorn — 
Twin sister of pale Sorrow, wan and worn; 

Low, low I kneel with dark, disheveled hair; 

My noblest, bravest sons lie starving where 
Grim Morro looms on high; my flesh is torn 
And bleeding from the tyrant's lash; I mourn 

My children slain ; I cry in my despair 

For some protecting arm, some flashing sword 
Upraised in my defense; I cry, and yet 

All lands stand dumb and will not answer 
me; 

How long ere my deep prayer be heard, O Lord ? 
How long ere my bruised feet be firmly set 
Upon the radiant peak of Liberty? 



[90] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
TO THE MOON 

Oh, ever changeful and enchanting moon! 

What mystical and varied forms are thine ! 

Tonight a peerless queen I see thee shine 
In raiment from the loom of Dreams; yet soon 
When skies grow gray and chill winds pipe a 
tune, 

A ghost thouTt grope beside the battle-line 

Of dark cloud-legions, or, in anguish, pine 
Upon the heated highway of red Noon, 
Or, wan and careworn, long for quick release 

From weary journeys through the deeps of 
night; 

Then, calm as Sleep, wilt thou appear to me, 
Thy glowing bosom soft and white with peace, 

As though to thee had flown on wings of 
light 

The myriad souls of each gray century ! 



[9i] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
LONGING 

In city walls, where duty bids me stay 

I long for woodland paths — sweet breath of 

pine, 
To see again the distant dazzling line 
Of slender, sandy shore; I know today 
How fair must lie the sea, far, far away, 
On whose broad breast the sun-wrought sap- 
phires shine 
And sparkle in the wind that breathes of wine; 
How shafts of gold and shifting shadows play 
Beneath cool groves that sing a slumber song, 
And clear bird notes are tingling through and 

through 
The peaceful heart of Silence! Ah, I long 
For friendly firs that brush against the blue 
And each still night to watch the warrior Mars 
Review the vast procession of the stars ! 



[92] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
EVENTIDE 

The garish day is done, and faint and far 

Like jagged shadows all the mountains lie — 

White priests that saw the red sun sink and 
die; 
Leaf-hidden birds where willow clusters are 
Fling down sweet showers of melody; a bar 

Of burnished gold from sunset's forge hangs 
high 

Above the hills and in the purple sky 
Beyond, the twilight grows one yellow star. 
Along some distant lane the cattle go 

With bells that sound like music heard in 
dreams ; 

Above the peaks the moon with soul of light 
Now crowns God's highest pyramid of snow, 
While from dim ponds and softly flowing streams 

Ring out the rhyming minstrels of the night! 



[93] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE OREGON RUFFED GROUSE 

A lover of dim ways in woodland shade 
Is he, whose martial music, shakes the still 
Cool air where lilies drowse and silver rill 

Alone draws light adown the gloomy glade; 

Where, deep within the hush, dank moss is laid 
That Solitude may rove from hill to hill 
With soundless tread, and where no bird's glad 
trill 

Ere breaks the iron silence God has made. 

To haunt sequestered dells is his delight 

Beneath low-drooping boughs that shadow all 
The dreamy pools; and when, care-worn, we 
come 

To where the wilderness makes of the night 
A dusky slave forever held in thrall, 
How sweet to hear the throbbing of his drum ! 



[94] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
HAUNTED 

Along its edge stand tall, rust-colored weeds 
Through which green snakes and slimy lizards 

glide; 
Amid the tufts of grass black beetles hide, 
And frogs blow bugles in the rustling weeds. 
From tangled sedge the timid wild fowl leads 
Her little brood, and quietly they ride 
Among the murky pools, while down beside 
A rotting log the watchful heron feeds. 
When flying clouds obscure a bent, old moon 
Strange sounds are heard — a low, distressing 
cry; 
A sob; a moan; the rushes shake with 
fright; 
A sudden deathly silence falls, and soon 
A ghostly maiden figure hurries by, 

Whose wild eyes glow with weird, unearthly 
light. 



[95] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
NIGHT 

Beloved Night ! Calm, soothing summer Night ! 
Your presence breathes of peace; your raven 

hair 
Falls over me and tender as the prayer 
Of kneeling virgin in dawn's holy light 
Is your caressing hand on Sorrow's white 

And trembling lips, or furrowed face of Care. 
Sweet slumber nestles on your breast and 
where 
Your dark robe trails, in valley or on height, 
The petals of your dream-flowers flutter down 
To sleeping eyes. I love you, love you so, 
Mother of mine ! And when the day is done 
I watch to see the first gleam in your gown 
Of lambent jewels that thrill and throb as 

though 
The pulse of God beat through them — every 
one! 



[ 9 6 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 



THE PASSING OF AUTUMN 

The glory of her reign is o'er and old, forlorn, 
A faded, tattered gown around her drawn 
She sits with drooping head and broods upon 
The time ere her rich robes were rudely torn 
And cast aside; a beggar, weary, worn 

Is she, whose garments like a gorgeous dawn 
Once lay along the hills ; her pride is gone 
And naught is left her but to mourn and mourn 
Amid her ruins. Oft there comes to me 
From out the wood her low, despairing wail 
When thoughts of that imperial attire 
Of other days bring keener agony, 

When all exultant she heard nation's hail 
The queen of Color with her soul of fire. 



[97] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
TO THE IDEAL 

Oh, goddess of the heights of Dream, arise! 
Illume the world with fire divine — ah me 
This market-place hath more than need of 
thee! 
An age that gathers gold and sells and buys 
Knows not the depth of thy alluring eyes 
Great with the light of Immortality; 
Give vision to dwarfed minds that never see 
God's star-wrought miracle in midnight skies: 
Upraise mankind from out the mire of Things, 
Breathe Song in hearts beset with doubts and 
fears 
And fire man's soul with faith that he may 
climb, 
Point thou the path — oh, conqueror of kings 
Whose face hath been a light to all the years — 
A sacred flame above the wreck of Time ! 



[98] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE MOUNTAIN 

Long hours we toiled up through the solemn 
wood 
Beneath moss-banners stretched from tree to 
tree; * 

At last upon a barren hill we stood 
And, lo, above loomed Majesty ! 



CUSTER 

When dashing, gallant Custer fell he gave 

The world a shining name Time cannot dim; 

He was a soldier so intensely brave 

That even Courage paled to follow him. 



MOONRISE 

A beaming, patient, peaceful face 
The moon now lifts above the sea; 

Across the waves with maiden grace 
Her white, jeweled arm falls languidly. 



99] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
A SEA PICTURE 

A level sand beach stretching far away, 

And flecked with shells like fallen flakes of 
snow, 

And in the distance, near the dying day, 
Two figures etched against the afterglow. 



CHILDREN 

Sweet flowers along Life's rugged slope 
All little children are to me — 

White blooms upon the hills of Hope 
That drink the dews of Purity. 



CREEDS 

These paths are narrow and on either side 
Loom Superstition's ancient peaks — forsooth 

So high their summits they forever hide 
From groping travelers the light of Truth! 



MAGIC 

These sturdy redwoods standing column-wise 
Show dark green boughs against morn's azure 

skies ; 
Night's stars flame out and lo, the branches hold 
A million glowing petals, white and gold! 



[ioo] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE PESSIMIST 

Amid the ways of Change and Chance 
Until Life's fire has flickered out, 

He plods the paths of Circumstance 
And blunders through the dusks of Doubt. 



THE WEST SHORE 

Green leagues of wood and red rose bowers 
With yellow sunshine sifting through; 

Tall billows flinging white foam-flowers 
To kingly peaks in skies of blue. 



THE PACIFIC 

High in the bending blue the round sun burns, 
And with enraptured eyes we westward look 

To where old Ocean ever turns and turns 
The great, white leaves of his eternal book. 



BUTTERFLIES 

Fast dancing flames on twig and bough, 
Bright flakes of sunshine drifting through 

The heavy woodland shadows; now 
Wee, wavering stars against the blue. 



[IOI] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
ALONG SHORE 

What wondrous sermons these seas preach to 
men! 

What lofty pinnacles they seek to climb! 
How old and bent they are, yet strong as when 

They rocked the infant Time! 



A WESTERN FOREST 

Dark boughs weighed down with silence; in a 
dim 

Cool nook a gray doe and her spotted fawn; 
Above, upon a fir tree's massive limb, 

A crouching cougar with keen daggers drawn. 



AT A CHILD'S GRAVE 

It is not dew that gleams so bright 

On these frail flowers 'neath which she sleeps, 
But tears shed by the mourner Night, 

Who ever lingers here and weeps. 



[102] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE BIRTH OF THE RED ROSE 

In the dawn of the world, in God's first morning 
sun 
Two white-petaled roses bloomed out in the 
South, 
And her hot, crimson lips Passion pressed upon 
one 
And its heart turned to flame at the fire of her 
mouth. 

IN THE GARDEN 

The fragrant, red roses bend quivering stems, 
The firefly strikes flame on the tall lily's tongue, 

The sweet clover blossoms wear glittering gems — 
Rare jewels in the veil that the white moon has 
flung. 

A FANCY 

Within a wood through which I came 
A red rose stands — a steady flame; 
It is the lamp that Beauty burns 
To light the fairies through the ferns. 



[103] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
INA COOLBRITH 

A clear, white flame illumes her song, 
The love of Truth, the hate of Wrong; 
'Tis like a star wherein we see 
The fire of Immortality. 

FOG 

A phantom form lurks near this wintry coast, 

'Tis but the fleecy fog I know, 
And yet it seems the lonely, wearied ghost, 

Of some dead storm of long ago. 



SUNSET 

Like some huge bird that sinks to rest 
The sun goes down — a weary thing — 

And o'er the water's placid breast 
It lays a scarlet, outstretched wing. 



[104] 



SONNETS AND QUATRAINS 
THE CYCLONE 

The child of Horror and wild Wrath am I, 
A creature that loves ruin and despair; 
My loins are girt with Fury, and I wear 
The robe of Night; to seize fair homes, to try 
My power upon the haunts of men is my 
Delight; the huge veins in my black breast 

glare 
With flame and passion while I onward bear 
A thousand souls across the shaking sky. 
Ah, when with thunder voice I earthward come 
Pale women shrink and shudder; at the sight 
Of my dark form the bravest holds his 
breath ; 
My awful majesty strikes all things dumb 
As on the rough round of the world I write 
The terrorizing signature of Death. 



[105] 



IN DIALECT 



IN DIALECT 



ON NEWBRASKY'S FERTILE SHORE 

Oh, I am so orful humsick! An' I feel so 

wretched queer! 
Ephrum, he has gone a ridin' on a wild electric 

keer, 
Rhody — that's my only daughter — she has gone 

an' left me, tew, 
Both a trapesin' 'round like ijits — wonder what's 

th' next they'll do? 
They don't seem t' think they're darin' Provi- 
dence right in th' face, 
Ridin' without hoss er engine 'n' goin' at a break 

neck pace. 
Course I needn't stand here waitin', both insisted 

I should come, 
But I vow I'll not be reckless when I am so fer 

from hum. 
Clear out here by th' Pacific, jist as fur as we 

kin git 
An' if we stay here much longer I declare I'll 

hev a fit. 
It's th' most decevin' kentry as ever' on'll say 
Ever' drap o' water salty in th' hull o' Frisco 

bay. 
Oh I've tramped these pesky sidewalks till my 

feet is lame an' sore, 
An' a yearnin' ever' minute fur Newbrasky's 

fertile shore! 

Then they brag about their scenery ! Californy ! 

Humph! O dear! 
Scenery! Well, jest speaking plainly, I don't 

see no scenery here. 

[109] 



IN DIALECT 

Nothin' but th' mount'in ranges rarin' up so 

tarnal high 
Thet a buddy kint look nowheres 'cept the middle 

o' th' sky. 
Mount'ins, everlastin' mount'ins, hills 'n' woods 

'n' rocks 'n' snow 
Where th' scenery is they're braggin' on I'm 

th' one as wants t' know. 
Let 'em stand in Lincoln county jest aback our 

cowyard fence, 
An' if they don't say there's scenery they haint 

got a lick o' sense ; 
Why yuh kin look fur miles around yuh an' see 

nothin' but th' flat 
Level prairie in th' sunshine kivered in its grassy 

mat. 
That is scenery — yuh kin look there jest as fur 

as yuh kin see 
With no hills a interposin' er no rocks, er airy 

tree, 
Oh, 'I've told my husband, Ephrum, that I'd 

gallavant no more 
When ag'in I'd sot my foot on old Newbrasky's 

fertile shore. 

Then I'm worried so 'bout Rhody, fur she's 

missin' ever' day 
All her lessons on th' melojun that paw bought 

fur her last May, 
An' she could perform amazin'; she could play 

"Old Hundred" nice 
An' another song beginnin' "Happy Day that 

Fixed My Ch'ice." 
Yes, th' singin' teacher told me as we parted at 

th' keers, 

[no] 



IN DIALECT 

He was shore she'd play th' organ in th' church 

'fore many years. 
Now her notion's highkerflutin', a pianner she 

wants now 
An' her paw sez he will get it soon as he kin 

sell a cow, 
Sez he kin dispose o' Muly — I jest told him no 

sir e-e 
Not fur no new-fangled nonsense — Muly's my 

cow, an' you see 
He's jest got a spite ag'in her 'cause she's got a 

lengthy tail 
An' in fightin' skeeters sometimes drops it in th' 

milkin' pail. 
Oh, I'll be the gladdest mortal when I reach th' 

kitchen door 
Of that dear old farmhouse standin' on New- 

brasky's fertile shore ! 

No, I don't enjoy th' city where the wimmen 

folks is dressed 
Monday an' clean through till Saturday all in 

their Sunday best, 
I jest like to git my old togs on — a body feels so 

free — 
A wrapper made of caliker is good enough fer 

me — 
Then go out an' milk old Muly an' turn out th' 

spotted calf 
While th' chickens giggle 'round me an' th' 

speckled roosters laff, 
Then go in the summer kitchen, set me down 

an' churn a spell, 
Till times comes t' put th' victuals on an' ring 

th' dinner bell. 

[IH] 



IN DIALECT 

Yes I love th' peaceful quiet o' th' farm where 

it's so still, 
Nothin' but th' ducks a quackin' 'n' pigs a 

squealin' fit to kill, 
Nothin' but th' geese a clackin' 'n' the bawlin' 

o' th' cows, 
An' th' nickerin' o' th' hosses as they're comin' 

t' th' house, 
Oh I want t' leave th' city with its racket an' its 

roar 
An' git back there t' the silence of Newbrasky's 

fertile shore ! 



[112] 



IN DIALECT 
DERNDEST GAL I EVER KNOWED 

Derndest gal I ever knowed, 
Neatest gal I ever seen, 
Lived down in the Red Ravine 
Jest below the county road. 
Guess she wuz about sixteen — 
Sophy wuz her name an' she 
Wuz ez cute ez cute kin be. 

When I'd go t' town I brung 

Her the biggest lot o' stuff, 

Pop corn, likrish, 'n' enough 

Candy fer t' fill a room. 

Once she hit me with a broom 

Cuz I kissed her on the cheek, 

An' the midget wouldn't speak 

T' me fer, perhaps, a week. 

When I'd raise my eyes to hern 

Jeminny ! my cheeks 'ud burn 

An' git redder 'n' a beet. 

Oh, she looked jest powerful sweet! 

When I'd try to call her dear 

Why I'd feel so doggoned queer 

That I'd lean ag'in' th' fence 

Zif I didn' hev no sense 

Twist th' buttons on my vest, 

Ast her who she liked th' best, 

Ast her if it wuzn't Bill 

Er old Jones thet run th' mill, 

Keep a hintin' 'round yuh see 

Till she'd up an' say twuz me. 



["3] 



IN DIALECT 

I wuz jellus o' Jim Pike 

Jellus ez th' very deuce 

Though there didn't seem much use 

Fer his freckles wuz so thick, 

An' his hair wuz so like brick 

Thet a feller one day said 

Yuh could toast a hunk o' bread 

Ef yuh'd hold it nigh his head. 

He wuz awkarder 'n' sin, 

Never fished along the crick 

But he'd hev t' tumble in. 

Sophy 'peared t' pity Jim 

While I thought if I wuz him 

I'd go off 'n' hide somewhere 

Else put plaster on my hair. 

But this homely, lantern- jawed 

Lookin' cuss stood 'round 'n' chawed 

On a plug o' terbacker 

Half his time 'n' talked t' her 

Of his love till I jest told 

Him t' mosey an' he rolled 

Up his sleeves 'n' landed me 

Plumb betwixt th' eyes, then he 

Went to Sophy an' sir, she 

Married him ! The pesky mule ! 

Wuzn't she a reg'ler fool? 

I wuz jest tetotally bio wed — 

Derndest gal I ever knowed ! 



[in] 



IN DIALECT 
BACK TO PETELUMY 

As I tell paw, if ever 'gin I set foot on shore, 
He'll never ketch me on the sea a-tossin' round 

no more; 
I've seen a-plenty, thank ye; I'm cooked jest 

through 'n' through 
On all this steamboat business; I'm done I 

promise you. 
It's up an' down an' down an' up and up an' 

down all day — 
A body haint got time to think er strength 

enough to pray. 
Sea sick? Well, jest ask Hiram! He knows it 

haint like me 
To act the grunt — no, sir! I'm sick — I'm sick 

as I can be ! 
Paw, won't you please do as I ask and take this 

broth away, 
These crackers, too — I'd ruther try to eat a bale 

of hay; 
I feel so plumb discouraged, but I hope I'll live 

to see 
The town of Petelumy, fer it's good enough fer 

me. 

I really didn't want to go, but Bud, our oldest 

son — 
He once went fer as Salem in the State of 

Oregon — 
Bud jest insisted I go take a rest an' see my 

folks, 
An' paw he took the idee up an' he set in to 

coax. 

[us] 



IN DIALECT 

An' so, of course, again my wish an' better jedg- 

ment, too; 
We bundled up our duds an' went — a pretty how 

dye do ! 
Fer Jake, my brother's youngest boy, was sick 

a-bed with mumps, 
An' Jim had yeller janders — th' hull fambly in 

the dumps! 
I got so tarnal tuckered out I felt jest deef an' 

dumb, 
An' 'fore we'd been there quite a week Jane Ann 

cut off her thumb; 
Then I looked straight at Hiram an' Hiram sez, 

sez he, 
"The town of Petelumy's plenty good enough 

fer me!" 

When Mandy got the whoopin'-cough an' 

chicken-pox struck Liz, 
And brother John looked sorter scared an' sez, 

"The rheumatiz !" 
I could a-sunk clean through the floor — a-died 

right then an' there, 
All cooped up in a city flat a-breathin' city air! 
I done my Christian dooty, though, an' snowed 

a willin' hand, 
And kep' a smilin' face an' worked when I c'd 

sca'cly stand; 
I had my rest as usual — my visit an' I'm through 
A-gaddin' off when right at home there's more 

V I can do! 
We're goin' back to comfert; yes, to where 

there's lots of room, 



[116] 



IN DIALECT 

With cowbells jinglin' in the lane an' roses all 

in bloom; 
When I git home my hens '11 act as tickled as 

can be 
In dear old Petelumy, where it's good enough 

fer me! 



["7] 



IN DIALECT 
A ROMANCE OF OREGON 

No, can't say I'm feelin' well, 
Somehow — don't know why, but yew 
P'rhaps may heered th' neighbors tell 
Last time yew was visitin' here 
'Bout my boy an' Jones' gal, Sue? 
They was sweethearts seven year 
Come next May — a lovin', tew, 
Jest like all these lovers do, 
Sweet on one another? My 
Should 'a' seen 'em! Ike 'u'd sigh 
Ever' time he heered her name, 
An' Sue, I guess, 'u'd do the same — 
Hed it bad! The Joneses they 
Worshipped Ike 'n' maw 'u'd say 
Reckon twenty times a day 
How she favored Sue 'n' we 
Loved her like our own an' so 
Both us famblies 'greed, yuh see, 
To the match jest perfectly. 
Promised Ike 'n' her yuh know, 
On their weddin' day I'd give 
Them th' upper forty where 
They c'd settle down 'n' live 
Like two robins — free from care 
As them thrushes singin' there. 
Well, Sue's weddin' gown was done, 
Ike had bought his weddin' clothes, — 
Saved his money long, long time, 
Cost him fifty ef a dime! 
Never'll see another one 
Fine as him 'n' Sue — a rose 
Sweet 'n' blushin' all in white, 
Eyes so big 'n' hair like night. 
[ii8] 



IN DIALECT 

Happy? Yes, I 'lowed she were 

Think so yit, but strange t' say 

Sompin' happened very day 

'Fore th' weddin'. Ike 'n' her 

They hed words 'n' both fell out, 

Don't know whut 'twas all about 

O'ny nuther feller'd come 

To Jones' house — agent fer 

Book er sompin' — reg'lar bum 

'S whut he was — plug hat 'n' ring 

Cane 'n' gloves 'n' ever'thing 

Gals admire. Yes, Ike 'n' her 

Hed hot words they did 'n' so 

First think Joneses er us know 

She an' that slick-tongued galoot 

Chased off up to Parson Kerr 

Unbeknownst to paw er maw 

An' got married. Never saw 

Madder folks! Jones swore he'd shoot 

Him on sight, but didn't — they 

Let him go 'n' wrote to Sue 

Tellin' her to stay away, 

Nary once't dast come through 

Their front gate 'n' nary 'gin 

Say she was their blood 'n' kin. 

Ike — he — well, pore boy, he said 

Nary word — jest hung his head 

An' th' tears fell down like rain. 

Ef a sharp steel blade 'd bin 

Druv plumb through his heart th' pain 

Would, I reckon, been no more 

'N he suffered then — both cried 

Maw 'n' me a-watchin' him, 

Our old eyes a-growin' dim 

Seein' how he felt — my pore 

[119] 



IN DIALECT 

Ike! My boy — my boy 'at died 

On th' slope of San Juan hill 

With a bullet in his side! 

Jined th' army 'gin our will, 

But we sez "Go on !" We knowed 

Life t' him was one rough road 

Sence she'd married. Last he said 

As a comrade raised his head, 

Was "Tell paw 't care fer Sue 

Ef sh's ever left alone, — 

Tell her I'll forgive her, tew," 

An' he died without a moan 

With th' old red, white 'n' blue 

Wavin' over him. They sent 

Him back home t' maw 'n' me 

Late last fall — my boy 'at went 

Off t' war. Them pines yuh see 

Over there? He's sleepin' through 

Earthly sorrer yunder on 

That old hill of Oregon. 

An' Sue? Yes, she's a livin' here, 

Broken-hearted, pale 'n' thin, 

Homeless, tew, ef we'd 'a' bin 

Like her folks, but we says "Dear 

Our home 's yourn!" She's alius near 

Where he's buried — weepin' there, 

An' she comferts like a prayer 

Us old folks 'n' right here she 

Will live 'n' die with maw 'n' me. 



[120] 



IN DIALECT 
BOLAND'S BOY 

Boland's boy was mean as sin, 
Meanest boy 'twas ever in 
Calif orny. Tough? Oh, gee! 
Harder case '11 never be! 
Licked th' teacher 'n' struck his paw, 
Fit his sister 'n' sassed his maw, 
Shot Bob Sander's old bay mare, 
Burned a half a yard of hair 
Off th' back of Smith's pet cat — 
Smith he trounced him good fer that, 
All th' neighbors thanked him, too, 
Fer they hated through an' through 
Boland's boy! 

Kept his parents both perplext 
Guessin' what he'd tackle next, 
Fer no tellin' when that cuss 
'Ud kick up some sort of fuss, 
Mebby'd turn Miss Avery's calf 
In her posey bed 'n' laugh 
When he'd hear her give a yell ; 
"He's a sinner bound for hell," 
Parson said when his dog True 
Limped home painted red an' blue; 
If a hen was picked up dead 
Owner ground his teeth 'n' said 
"Boland's boy!" 



[121] 



IN DIALECT 

Time 'at he had reached sixteen 
He was meanest of the mean; 
"Hope we'll live to see th' day 
That boy's hung" the folks 'ud say, 
Prob'ly not meanin' though 
What they said — jest pestered so. 
Well, he reached th' end one night, 
Stabbed a feller in a fight 
Down in Jenk's Saloon 'n' run, 
Marshal stopped him with a gun, 
Locked him up an', oh, dear me 
Wa'nt folks pleased they couldn't see 
Boland's boy! 

Iron bars didn't hinder him, 
Midnight come he up 'n' dim', 
Got out somehow — no one knowed, 
House afire jest down the road, 
Baby cryin' — folks away, — 
Sociable I heered 'em say. 
Through the winder 'n' up th' stair, 
Stumblin', gropin' up to where 
In its crib th' baby cried — 
Wonder 'at it hadn't died — 
Fightin' fer his ev'ry breath 
Rushed into th' doors of death 
Boland's boy! 



[122] 



IN DIALECT 

Save th' baby? Yes, by dad 
Bet he did. 'Twas mighty sad 
Seem' him a layin' there — 
Face all blackened 'n' his hair 
All scorched of! 'n' flesh half gone, 
Mother's tears a-fallin' on 
Them burned cheeks 'n' glassy eyes 
Starin' at the mornin' skies ; 
Said the Marshal of th' town — 
Him a-kneelin' sadly down — 
" 'Spite of all his cussedness 
God '11 not fergit, I guess 
Boland's boy I" 



[123] 



IN DIALECT 
JIM ROBBINS' WOODEN LEG 

Old Jim Robbins lost his leg 
Fightin' Injuns — stumped aroun' 
On a sort of wooden peg 
Doin' odd jobs in the town 
Fer his livin'. Never knowed 
Man more patienter 'n' Jim; 
I jest thought a heap of him — 
Jolly feller! I'd a growed 
Plum discouraged, but, sir, he 
Kep' good natured as can be — 
Hed a Christian sperrit, too — 
Jined our church — was alius there 
Twict on Sundays. Led in prayer 
More en' once. An' sing! Well, you 
Never heered a voice more grand' 
'N' when he'd give us Bewlew Land 
Thinks I tew myself one day 
Wonder what ol' Jim 'ud say 
Tew a artifishul limb, 
Something more genteel 'n' that 
Lookin' thing hitched on to him, 
So I came out plain 'n' flat 
Next prayer meetin' 'n' I asked 
Fer dunations 'n' at last 
Got Miss Harper to agree 
She'd give five to ever' three 
Dollars others give — ye see 
No one there exceptin' me 
Felt that they could sca'cly spare 
More'n fifty cents or so, 
An' we raised in all I guess 
'Bout ten dollars more er less. 
Needed ten times ten to buy 
[124] 



IN DIALECT 

Any sort of patent limb, 
So I told 'em we must try 
Ice cream sociables 'n' these 
Grab bag parties — sewin' bees 
An' such like. I done fer Jim 
All I could, but they somehow- 
Got into a reg'lar row. 
Miss Jones sassed the Widder Brown, 
Half the wimmen in the town 
Got riled up 'n' wouldn't raise 
Nary finger fer a fair 
Ner a thing — jest didn't care. 
So I waited 'n' th' days 
Passed away — then trouble rose 
In the choir 'n' goodness knows 
What a lot of sass we had, 
Ever'body fightin' mad! 
Time crept on 'n' full five year 
Come 'n' went 'n' poor ol' Jim 
Growin' feebler — couldn't heer 
Very much ye said to him, 
Deacon Hathaway 'n' me 
Worked like beavers, but, sir, we 
Couldn't raise enough to buy 
Half a artifishul knee; 
Ever' doin's fizzled — my 
Wimmen never will agree! 
So a dozen years er more 
Come 'n' went 'n' still that pore 
Man pegged 'roun' a-growin' gray, 
Stooped 'n' wrinkled. Well, one day 
Ol' Jim Robbins passed away, 
Died a-waitin' — yes, by gum 
Waitin' fer that leg to come ! 
Last he says was, "Ike" — says he, — 
[125] 



IN DIALECT 

"God I've heered loves jest th' same 
Them that's blind 'n' halt 'n' lame, 
But I'd 'lowed I'd wear that limb 
Day 'at I was called to Him, 
But He'll know it 'pear to me 
Why I didn't— Charity!" 



[126] 



IN DIALECT 
SENCE MY MARY WENT AWAY 

Ah sir! You should just have seen her, 

Seen her long and silky hair 
Shinin' like a shock o' sunbeams 

Wavin' in the summer air! 
Then her cheeks seemed bloomin' roses, 

An' her fingers — don't yuh know — 
They was white as maple branches 

Wrapped around by winter's snow. 

Eyes so big an' blue an' honest 

Alius gazin' into mine, 
An' a heart that never faltered 

Whether rain or whether shine, 
Cheerful words for ev'r'body, 

Smilin' all the livelong day, 
Do yuh wonder that I'm lonely 

Sence my Mary went away? 

I remember how we used to 

On them sunny afternoons 
Stroll together down the woodland 

Listenin' t' th' merry tunes 
Played by little, jolly breezes 

Foolin' 'mong the tree tops high, 
An' she thought that river yunder 

Was a strip o' fallen sky. 



[127] 



IN DIALECT 

Course its only my odd fancy 

Anyhow it strikes me so, 
Thet things now haint half so cheery 

As they was a year ago. 
The trees air green, its mighty sartin 

But to me they're alius gray 
An' the birds seem sorter silent 

Sence my Mary went away. 

Why th' pathway down th' valley 

Where we wandered hand in hand 
Is today a sorter gloomy one 

I kint quite understand, 
Then the crick thet giggled softly, 

Shook itself 'n' run along 
Now goes slippin' past the willers 

With an orful solemn song. 

Them old hills, too — eh! Yer goin'? 

Sorry t' hev kept yuh here. 
Good by! Strange th' air looks misty !- 

Mebby — why — 'twas just a tear! 
Like as not you think me foolish 

An' don't keer for what I say, 
But I feel, oh God, so lonesome 

Sence my Mary went away! 



[128] 



eow a mt 



